


Detective Inspector Sunday

by plumedy



Category: Endeavour (TV), Inspector Morse (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, Episode: Death Is Now My Neighbour, Ficlet, Friendship, Gen, Odd, Timeline What Timeline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2013-09-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumedy/pseuds/plumedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thursday never liked jokes about the days of the week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Detective Inspector Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, fandom! _The Oxford Times_ is published each Thursday, btw

“Looks like… Mouse?”

She didn’t smile, Morse noticed. He suspected that it was not out of tact but rather because she was not the kind of person to feel awkward on someone else's behalf.

 

Then he heard a high-pitched voice from behind.

“Anyone? I need a Detective Inspector- Detective Inspector Wednesday?”

A small black-haired woman trotted towards them and looked at Morse inquiringly. Her eyes were like wine grapes.

“Is he here?” she was speaking with a slight Scottish accent. “I’m from _The Oxford Times_.”

Morse glanced back with some trepidation. Thursday slowly produced a pocket watch and contemplated it with an inscrutable air.

“From this minute on that’s Detective Inspector Sunday, ma’am,” he said. “And I’m off duty.”

He walked through the cold iridescent drizzle and patted Morse on the shoulder.

“Come on, Morse. ‘Angel and Greyhound’ is still open.”

 

“It’s a relief we don’t have any Germans in the division,” said Thursday, sounding a little tipsy (which was quite an achievement, really, what with the amounts of alcohol he consumed without so much as blinking an eye). “At least nobody screws up _your_ last name.”

The protective tone pleased Morse (who was also more than slightly drunk) so that he tried to console his governor by telling him how much worse it must be for both Jim Strange and the Chief Super. Thursday was unexpectedly amused.

“If only,” he snorted, “the strange and the bright constituted the force. Pity I know only one man who’s both.”

 

“ _Morse_ ,” said he, wincing. “Chief Inspector _Morse_.”

But she was smart and beautiful, her cheeks a mild blood-and-milk, and it wasn’t her fault that she wasn’t German. Morse wondered what on earth could drive her to become a forensic pathologist; inwardly he was still deeply convinced such professions weren’t for the weaker sex.


End file.
